


Not Because You Should, But Because You Must

by Devilc



Category: Friday Night Lights (2006), Sons of Anarchy, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jax Teller+Tim Riggins+Dean Winchester.  It's a manwich supreme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call me I'm loose & ready to go / people in the world about to lose control.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ixchel55](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixchel55/gifts).



> For ixchel55, because it's all her fault for suggesting the Manwich Supreme, when she said, "Because now I of course don't have Jax/Tim stuck in my head. The only way that could possibly be hotter would be to put Tim between Jax and Dean."
> 
> There are several blink and you'll miss it injokes for other stories I've written peppered throughout, but they are not necessarily indicative of continuity with those stories.
> 
> I'm setting this about 3-4 years from where we are right now (S4 FNL, early S5 for SPN), so consider my takes on some of these characters to be slightly AU. In the giant backstory in my head, one of them in particular had his life turned inside out and upside down ... and that's hinted at.
> 
> Title and chapter titles are lines from Them Crooked Vultures's [No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M89qz4aWbBo).
> 
> Thanks to Tartysuz for the beta.

"Jax," Lyla all but gasped with relief when he picked up the phone. "I need a favor. I just got a call from one of our guys, and his truck's broken down on the side of the 18 and it's got to get towed so he can get here. We're doing Midnight's 50-stud gang-bang and she specifically wanted him for the finish. We're on guy 25. I'm going to extend it as long as I can, but, there's only so long we can go. _Hurry_!"

"Opie's got the truck, Lyla. He and Sack are doing a repo."

"Fuck!" Lyla snapped. Then she took a deep breath and continued in pleading voice, "Can you please just pick him up and get him here? He's right next to mile marker five. It's an emergency. Please."

_A porn emergency. Riiiiiight._ "Will do." Jax sighed and hung up the phone.

\----

The truck and the guy weren't at all what Jax expected. Most starlets and studs spent their money just as fast as they made it. Sports cars and fancy clothes were the order of the day. (Drugs, too.)

The truck was an ancient Chevy Silverado that had seen better days. The smell of burnt oil and large dark puddle underneath it didn't bode well. Jax looped the bike around and pulled up behind.

The guy leaning up against the tailgate talking on a phone had on a plaid flannel shirt, faded jeans, and a well-worn set of cowboy boots. His light brown hair was almost as long as Jax's, and he certainly had a pretty face with his lean jawline and those cheekbones. But it was the eyes intently studying him over the edge of a pair of sunglasses that captured (and held) Jax's attention as he parked his bike and walked over. Bright hazel cat's eyes. Clear, not glassy or fuzzy with drugs, the welcoming expression in them unmarred by a ~~holier~~ studlier than thou arrogance.

"Finish your shift, Dee," he said to the person on the other and of the call. "I think my ride just got here. See you tonight." His voice had just the hint of a southern accent.

"Sorry the tow truck can't make it." Jax held out his hand. "I'm Jax. Lyla sent me."

The guy started to extend his own hand, then paused. "Am I supposed to give you the real name or the porn name?"

Jax laughed. "I'll go with real."

The guy smiled. "Tim. Tim Riggins." He had a good, firm grip, and calluses that hinted at doing actual work.

Jax swung his leg over the bike and held out his spare helmet. "You been on one of these before?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Swing over. Put your hands on my hips." Tim did so, not too loose and not too tight. It was always a bit iffy when you got a noob on a bike. Some barely touched you, while others clenched down in a death grip. "Feet on the pegs. When I turn left, I want you looking over my left shoulder, you don't need to lean. When I turn right, I want you looking over my right shoulder. Other than that, just look straight ahead."

"Piece of cake."

~oo(0)oo~

"So, what's the porn name?" Jax asked, pulling up at the entrance to Caracara.

"Lance Pantera," Tim said as he pulled off the helmet and handed it back.

Something about the way he smirked when he said it made Jax wonder if there was some sort of private joke behind the name. "Oh. So, _you're_ the guy."

"What guy?" Tim paused at the door and raked his fingers through his hair.

"The one all the girls are twittering about." Jax laughed.

Tim shook his head and chortled. "Man, they talk about you too," he said as he stepped in.

Jax sat on his bike for a moment and then decided _Oh, what the hell_. It had been a few months since he'd last stuck his head in the door at Caracara. (A) He'd been busy with the shop and Abel, (B) Lyla and Opie had it under control, and (C) Tara was plenty of woman for any man. Still, it never hurt for the President of the club to stick a nose in and make sure things were running like they should.

Lyla waved him over when she saw him. "Is he here?" she whispered in his ear, scarcely daring to take her eyes off the camera and monitors. Jax nodded. She grinned ear to ear.

Jax liked porn as much as the next guy, but somehow, seeing it get made took away some of the magic. It became even more scripted. Right now, there were two guys in line getting "fluffed" for their turn with Midnight, a pretty dark-skinned girl currently being fucked on a large bed covered in cream-colored satin. Her moans and pouts and little ohs! came right on cue and she had three cameras currently trained on her -- one capturing closeups of her face, another doing full body shots, and the third got closeups of penis in vagina. The angles at which Midnight and the guy came together, the speed at which the guys humped her, the sounds they made, the words they said ... almost none of it was left to chance.

Then again, considering the cost of running Caracara? Multiple takes and missed cues were money that came out of SAMCRO's pocket. Damn right, the action was scripted.

Jax wandered into the office, opened the fridge reserved for SAMCRO members and helped himself to a beer. He had no real reason to stick around, except that ... he wanted to see what "Lance Pantera" had that the rest of the studs in the stable didn't. Because, really, few of the male actors in porn were liked by the starlets. Most were merely tolerated. And after seeing several of them in and out of action, Jax completely understood why. They did porn because they liked sex, or rather, because they thought they were God's gift to sex, or they were sex addicts, or because they weren't good for any other thing except fucking.

A lot of them hated playing second fiddle to the girls, too.

He strolled back out to find that Lyla had called a short break between #49 and the grand finale. Tim, clad in a robe, was talking to Lyla. Jax flopped down in the chair next to Lyla's and waited for the show to start.

"... and then I think I'll roll her on her left side and get her from that angle. It's a bed and all, but I'm thinking her backside's a little tender by now. When I roll over on my back and take her with me, get ready for the money shot. Sound good?"

Jax raised an eyebrow at that ... script or no script, there was a bit of give and take in filming depending on things, but the guys she directed usually didn't tell Lyla what they planned to do. She usually told them what she had in mind and they worked out the details from there.

Lyla smiled at Tim. "Sounds good." Pause. "It looks like Jax is going to watch. Is there a problem with that?"

Jax paused with the beer bottle half way to his lips and shot Lyla a WTF?! look, because, hello? Club President and her fucking boss.

Tim grinned roguishly at Jax. His quick trip through hair and makeup had only served to enhance what was already there, meaning god_damn_ was he one good looking guy. "He's the boss. I'd be pretty fucking stupid to tell him no." A calculating gleam entered Tim's eye. "This has something to do with that bet you and Juice got going, right? I'm telling you, if a week of Opie glaring at me from the sidelines didn't give me a hard-off, do you think a friendly face will do it?" They both laughed and Lyla clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm going to tell Midnight the plan --" he glanced at where the crew was performing a quick touch up to her hair and makeup "-- and as soon as the robe comes off, I'm ready for action."

~oo(0)oo~

As soon as the robe came off, Jax got a very clear view of what "Lance Pantera" had that he didn't.

"Damn," he whispered, shaking his head slightly.

"They certainly grow 'em big in Texas." Lyla smirked down at him, then winked and continued in a soft voice, "It's not just the size of your pencil, hon. It's also the way you sign your name." Taking a deep breath she cried, "Action!" And a hush fell over the rest of the set.

Tim crawled on all fours across the bed towards Midnight, who wore what seemed like a genuine smile at the sight. Kneeling between her open legs, he gently reached out and stroked her with a feather light touch. "You're all red hot for me, baby," he murmured softly. And, though it was the kind of line Jax had heard a million times in porn, it wasn't stilted the way Tim delivered it. "All wet and tender. A little too much, a little too hard, and it's just not going to feel good at all, is it, sugar?"

"I asked for you for a reason, honey. You've never let a girl down."

Tim's mouth quirked in a strange half-smile. "Out of bed? Hell yes. In bed?" His expression turned from bittersweet to downright smoldering. "_Never_."

Midnight laughed at that, but it turned to an "Oh!" and then an "Oh, baby!" as he went down on her.

On one level, yes, it was totally staged in that both of them angled their bodies in such a way that the cameras got the best possible shots of what he was doing to Midnight with his mouth and fingers.

On another level, it was clear that Tim was totally into what he was doing to Midnight and that he was _damn_ good at it. Midnight's "Oh, yeahs" and "Oh, babys" didn't have quite the same rote, rehearsed quality that her previous cries did.

At one point, Tim looked up, locked eyes with Midnight, made a huge show of licking his sticky chops and said, "Red blooded, All-American woman. Best taste on the planet."

And at that point, Jax got it. (A) This guy really was God's gift to sex and (B) he liked women. _Really_ liked women.

A few years back, a starlet named Jillian had had a bit of a crush on Jax. Only, unlike the others who made a serious play, Jillian never went beyond being the friendly flirt with him. So, one night, he asked her why she still flirted with him, what did she get out of it? "What I like about you Jax," she replied, "is even though I know you're taken, you've got this way of making me feel like I'm the only girl in the room when you talk to me."

Tim had that same touch. Right now Midnight was in bed, in a room full of people, about to get fucked by a co-worker whose job it was to fuck her, and they were both going to have to play for the cameras, and somehow, Jax knew that right now Tim made Midnight feel like she was the only girl in the room.

When Tim rolled her on her side, facing the camera, murmuring, "Let's see if it's more comfortable for you this way." As he trailed a line of licks and kisses along the curve of her hip and waist, he used the cover to open the condom and slide it on. Neat, because it completely bypassed the usual awkwardness associated with stopping to put on a condom.

As he positioned himself and gently and slowly parted her lips -- both for Midnight's comfort, and for the camera -- he said, "Let me know how it feels, sugar," as he oh-so-slowly pushed in. It wasn't until he heard Midnight's "Feels good, baby," that Jax let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Tim rocked into her slow, and deep, giving her time to adjust, obviously caring that it be good (or at least not uncomfortable) for Midnight, and when he said things about how hot she was around him and what a turn on that was, and it was so much fun being with with her right now because she'd been "fucked all sensitive", and how soft her skin was and how good she smelled ... the words themselves came straight out of any one of a thousand and one porn movies, but the _way_ Tim said them did not. Only girl in the room? Nah, more like Queen of All of the World right now. The guy had actually figured out how to bring just a touch of romance into porn.

As he sped up his thrusts, Tim licked his thumb and forefinger before using them to gently tease one of Midnight's nipples as he nuzzled into her neck. "Oh, sugar, I'm close, real close right now," he rasped.

"Oh, baby, I'm coming right now!" She let loose with several, loud, breathy cries and shivered slightly.

In a flash, Tim pulled out, rolled on to his back, taking her with, reached down and between, rolled the condom off, and _together_ he and Midnight stroked a few times until he came in a series of hard spurts across her belly.

Right. Thank God. Cut. Because Jax was so fucking hard it wasn't funny any more.

Only Lyla didn't yell cut. The camera was still rolling when Midnight reached for the sheet to wipe her self off and Tim stayed her hand as he wriggled out from beneath her, made a big show of "mwah!" kissing her pussy twice, and then enthusiastically licked her belly clean before crawling up her body to finish with a loud smack on her lips.

"Silly!" Midnight threw her head back and laughed, pushing him away with a palm to the forehead.

He fell back on his haunches, made another show of licking his lips, and purred, "You wouldn't have me any other way, sugar."

"Cut!" Lyla yelled.

At that moment Jax knew three things:

1) Lance Pantera was going to be a big star.  
2) Midnight's gang-bang was going to sell a lot of copies and make a lot of money.  
3) As soon as he could stand, he was totally doing the walk of shame to the men's room and taking care of business.

Oh, and as soon as he was capable of driving, he was going straight to Tara's office, pulling her into the first room with a door that locked, and fucking her silly.

~oo(0)oo~

Jax came back into Lyla's office to find Tim, clad in a robe, sitting across the desk from her.

"Change in plan for Wednesday's shoot, Tim. We need you to play a succubus too," Lyla said.

"Incubus," he replied. "If it's a guy, it's an incubus, not a succubus."

"Whatever," Lyla said, jotting a note in her planner.

Tim chewed on his bottom lip for a bit. "Uhh ... I got to ask Dee about this."

"What? Why?"

Tim ran a hand through his hair, paused for a moment, then said, "Because Dee's got some real issues about anything connected to demons and if I just go ahead and do this without asking, there's going to be trouble in paradise." Tim pulled his phone out of the robe's pocket, and said, "Give me a second to text, here." His fingers flashed on the keys. "I take it that other than this, I'm done for the day?"

"Yep."

"Cool. I'll call you as soon as I know." Looking at Jax, Tim asked, "Hey man, can I ask you for a ride home?"

Jax blinked a bit at the request, but before he could say anything, Lyla spoke up: "If we ask one of the girls to do it, it will just cause problems. They all want a piece of him, and I can't have anybody think I'm playing favorites."

"I don't bring work home with me. It's part of the deal Dee and I made when I started this," Tim added quietly. "I mean, I can catch a cab if you can't."

"Naw, man, I get it. Tara ain't real happy about me coming out to Caracara, either."

Tim smiled. "Thanks. Give me 10 minutes to get dressed."

~oo(0)oo~

Tim didn't shower before getting dressed and climbing on the back of the bike.

Jax got hard all over again, because holy mother of fuck, Tim smelled like sex.

"We'll have your truck at the shop," Jax said as he pulled up in front of a nondescript bungalow not far from the mill. "We'll call you as soon as we know what's wrong."

"Sounds good. Thanks again."

~oo(0)oo~

The next morning Tim pulled up at the shop in a cream colored Buick Regal.

"That's about the last kind of car I ever expected to see you drive, man." Jax, said, wiping his hands with a rag as he shook his head in mock sorrow.

A bemused gleam entered Tim's eyes. Flipping Jax the keys he said, "Take a look under the hood."

"A Regal GSX Stage 3, no shit!" Juice crowed and fist pumped as soon as they all caught sight of the supercharged beast under the hood.

"And I see somebody added paddle shifters to the steering wheel," Jax noted.

Tim shrugged, hands in his pocket. "It's going to be a gift for Sam, Dee's brother. He's off at college and his birthday's coming up. Been getting around on a _bicycle_." Tim shuddered slightly. "Dee and I couldn't let that stand."

"But why'd you take the badging off the car?" Sack asked.

"Stealth. Without all the badging, Sam's got a wolf in sheep's clothing."

Jax laughed at that. "Sneaky. I like it." Drawing in a deep breath he shuffled his feet against the floor and said, "So, about your truck ... do you want the bad news or the bad news?"

Tim made a show thinking hard for a moment before he quipped brightly, "I'll take the bad news."

"Blown head gasket, cracked engine block, and two of your connecting rod bearings are going to go soon."

Tim sighed, raked his fingers through his hair as he studied the ground for several seconds and said, "You'd better take me over."

"I hate to say it, but your engine is shot, man," Jax murmured softly.

Tim snorted mirthlessly. "Let me be the judge of that."

~oo(0)oo~

When he saw the crack in the block, Tim leaned against the engine compartment, buried his head in his arms, and rocked back and forth a few times. His eyes were glassy when he looked up. "That's one fucking evil crack. Placement means that metal stitching would be a bitch, too. _Fuck_." He clenched a double handful of hair as he spun and looked up at the ceiling. Finally he said, "Okay, hook me up with a new engine."

"We'd only be able to get a rebuilt engine for a truck this old ... if we can find one," Opie rumbled.

"I get that."

"Tim," Jax laid a hand on his arm, "are you sure? I mean, this truck's awful old, and --"

"My brother Billy bought me this truck," Tim hissed. "He's dead now. Died in the fire that killed him, my sister-in-law, and my little baby nephew. Burned down the house I grew up in, too."

"Oh shit, man, I'm sorry," Jax murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"We'll get your truck up and running," Opie said reassuringly. "We'll find a way."

Tim nodded, lips pressed into a thin, tight line. "Give me a minute to get my personals and I'll get out of your hair."

~oo(0)oo~

"Hey, you dropped something," Jax said as he saw a photo flutter out of the stack of stuff Tim carried towards the Buick. He picked up a picture of a pretty girl in a cheerleading outfit. She had big brown eyes and blue and gold ribbons in her long brunette hair.

"Lyla." There was an ocean of regret in the way Tim murmured her name.

"The one that got away?"

A bittersweet smile flashed across Tim's face. "But only after we broke each other's hearts."

"Sorry if this seems weird, but to totally change the subject, how do you know about metal stitching?"

Tim smiled bitterly. "I didn't start out in porn, Jax. I used to be a mechanic just like you."

Jax felt his mouth open and shut a few times before he finally got a grip on himself.

"Yeah, really. Billy and me, we had a shop. Riggins Rigs." He shook his head sadly. "But that was a lifetime ago." The look in Tim's eyes suddenly shifted, becoming cool and almost flinty. "Okay, so I'll be going now. Call me when you get news about the engine."


	2. I know how to burn with passion/hold nothing back for future ration

On Wednesday and Thursday, Jax found reasons to head out to Caracara and hang out for a few hours as Tim the incubus -- complete with horns and Darth Maul contacts -- and Midnight the succubus (her contacts were purple) took on several starlets. The girl on girl was hot just on general principles, but Tim?

Jax still had it in the sack, but he hadn't been able to aim, shoot, and reload like that since high school.

Poppers had always been a part of the porn industry and Viagra worked wonders, but aside from needing a little fluffing towards the end of the day, Tim didn't need any chemical help to get it up. True, there was less of a payload by the end of the day, but they had clever camera cuts and cream of wheat if the director felt it necessary.

The movie even had a moral/punchline at the end. Despite their demonic nature, the incubus and succubus practiced safe sex, insisting on condoms every time. In the end they were both banished when somebody tried to use Crisco for lube. Tim found that really funny for some reason. He shook his head and chortled "Christo!/Crisco!" several times between takes before whipping out his phone and texting Dee about it.

On Friday, Tim and "Stone" played two plumbers who ended up double-teaming the bored and horny housewife.

Jax went home and fucked Tara three times that night.

(And spent the rest of the weekend dreading her teasing him about which starlet had him all worked up.)

~oo(0)oo~

On Monday, after watching Tim play a football player who got lucky with three cheerleaders and the coach's daughter -- a scenario that Tim found pretty funny because, "Coach's daughter is about the only girl I didn't get lucky with in high school" -- Jax asked Tim if he wanted to go and grab a beer or something.

Tim smiled bigger than Jax had ever seen before. "Dee's pulling some overtime tonight, and I don't have a shoot tomorrow, so yeah, that sounds great."

Jesus God, he had _dimples_.

(Jax _throbbed_.)

~oo(0)oo~

As he reeled down the hall and flopped on the bed, Jax had a new set of realizations about Tim Riggins:

1) The guy could fucking _drink_ when he wanted to.  
2) Trying to hustle Tim at Pool was a good way to end up with an empty wallet.   
3) Women seemed to love him just because. Jax wouldn't be surprised to find out Tim could charm the pants off a bull dyke.

Case in point -- Tim had gotten Tara to go from steaming mad to smiling sweetly (at him) in under five seconds. Hell, she seemed _happy_ that Tim was going to crash on the couch tonight and even made him drink a glass of water and take some Motrin, "So you won't be so hungover tomorrow." Meanwhile, she left Jax to his own devices and glared at him when she stormed into the room.

With a loud groan he dragged himself off the bed and forced himself to drink two glasses of water and swallow some Motrin.

~oo(0)oo~

If his head hadn't been pounding so badly, Jax might have taken more pleasure in the fact that Tim also looked like fried shit the next morning.

That he had sunglasses on to drink coffee and nibble at a piece of dry toast spoke volumes.

"Dee's going to _kill_ me," moaned as he ran a hand underneath his sunglasses and scrubbed blearily at his eyes. "I haven't been this hungover in years." He took a sip of coffee. "You got a great kid, by the way."

"God, I hope he wasn't too much." Jax's stomach flip-flopped alarmingly the moment he thought of reaching for toast. Looked like he was having Alka-Seltzer for breakfast this morning.

Tim smiled wanly. "It's not the first time I've been woken up that way. And it's far from the worst." He snickered at some memory.

They sat in silence for several moments, Jax mostly waiting for the coffee to kick in. And, shit, did he ever want a cigarette right now, but Tara had finally gotten him to quit a year ago. "I got a message from Opie. He found an engine for your truck."

"So, I guess I'll be giving you that 500 back?"

Jax grinned evilly at Tim.

He shrugged. "Well, it was fun while it lasted."

~oo(0)oo~

Friday night, Jax slipped out the back door at Caracara to find Tim, arms crossed, slouched against his bike.

"I'd say 'your place or mine', but your place is out of the question. Hotel or my place?" Tim leered at him through his too long bangs.

"What are you talking about?" Jax couldn't quite keep the nerves out of his voice because he knew _exactly_ what Tim was talking about it and he wanted it as much as he feared it.

Tim snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'm not entirely stupid, Jax. You've been here every day the past two weeks that I have a shoot. You only visit my sets. That night that we got drunk, you certainly took advantage of any opportunity to get close to me -- you definitely had 'Roman Hands' getting into and out of the car. Look, I know what you want." He tossed his hair out of his eyes and fixed Jax with a direct look. "Question is, are you going to ask for it?"

Jax closed his eyes and counted to ten. "This isn't easy for me."

"Like it's a cakewalk for me?"

Right.

Jax sucked in a deep breath and forced it through his nose.

(What he wouldn't give for a smoke right now.)

"Your place," he said through a mouth that felt as dry as sand.

~oo(0)oo~

Tim parked the Buick next to a classic black Chevy Impala in the drive.

"Nice car, man," Jax said, reaching out with a gloved hand and almost gingerly running a finger over the edge of the hood. Damn, that paint was glossy, the kind of finish you only got with carnauba wax and _a lot_ of elbow grease. "Why don't I see you driving this around?"

"Because it's Dee's car." Tim said over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

Jax froze.

"What?" Tim asked as soon as he sensed Jax wasn't right behind.

"I'm not so sure --"

Tim smiled patently. "Don't worry. It's all good, I promise. Dee knows all about you."

"Ooookay." Jax didn't quite know how this was going to work, because he wanted Tim, bad, but he loved Tara, and despite all the other wildness of the biker lifestyle, once they had gotten together for good --'til death (or 500 miles) do us part -- he'd never disrespected her by shitting in the backyard.

Tim opened the door and waved him through.

The furnishings were what Jax expected. Earthtones. Worn around the edges. Lived in. Not Martha Stewart.

The guy on the couch was not.

_Tim's been saying "D", not "Dee" -- ohgod._ The shock of realization jolted Jax so hard that for a split second his knees turned to jello.

Before he could react, Tim footsied the door shut, slung an arm over Jax's shoulders, and said, "He followed me home, D. Can we play with him?"

D threw back his head and laughed. "Dude," he crowed, pointing at Jax, "if you could see the _look_ on your face right now!"

_He's as pretty as Tim_, was all Jax could think as the guy got off the couch and headed towards him. D had green eyes, and short hair with dark blond highlights, and other than the fact that he was a few years older than Tim, everything else about him, that almost delicate face, the way he dressed, the way he moved, that wicked glint of mischief in his eyes, it was all Tim ... or perhaps Tim was all D. " -- didn't explain that 'D' is a guy?"

Jax shook his head.

"Don't worry, dude, you're not the first person this has happened to." He held out a hand. "Dean. Dean Winchester."

"Jax," Jax squeaked, pumping it. He cleared his throat. "Jax Teller."

Tim snickered, but not meanly. "I didn't do it on purpose this time, D. It just completely slipped my mind that I never explained." Then, "Look, Jax, if you're not cool with this, you can go. It's okay. Really."

"No! I-I --" Jax's mind scrambled for words as he looked between the two of them. "I think I need to sit down."

"You do that, man." Dean beamed at him. "Find your words."

Jax's legs all but buckled as he reached the couch and he hit the cushion so hard the frame squeaked. He looked up at Tim and opened his mouth to ask, but what came out was an almost hysterical giggle.

(_Oh FUCK me._)

"What?" Tim shrugged. "Like I'm going to say, 'well, I fuck pussy all day, but I go home and suck cock at night'?"

Well ... he had a point. "I can see how that might cause a few problems," Jax managed to say in an even voice before the snickers overwhelmed him.

"Caracara doesn't do gay porn, and neither do I." Tim might have directed the words at Jax, but the look he and Dean shared spoke volumes.

Finally getting a handle on the laughter that kept threatening to bubble up, Jax said, "This is _so_ not what I expected."

"We aim to baffle," Dean replied.

~oo(0)oo~

"So ... what now," Jax said after he got off the phone with Tara, letting her know that Tim had invited him over for a few beers and he might be crashing on the couch.

"Pizza," Tim said. "I'm hungry." He paused. "What? I've been working hard all day."

Yeah, working hard was one way to put it.

Dean crossed his arms and studied them for a moment. "And how 'bout you suck Jax's cock while we're waiting for it to come?"

"Sounds good." Tim smiled as he dropped to his knees.

Jax had the weird sensation that any second now he would wake up in a hospital bed and discover that he'd passed out at Caracara and hit his head really hard on the floor or something, and Tara would be there, holding his hand and telling him he was expected to make a full recovery.

He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten.

When he opened them again he was still not in the hospital with a knot the size of Mt. Whitney on his head. He was still on Tim and Dean's couch with a throbbing cock in his now way too tight jeans.

It wasn't the first time he'd ever had a guy suck his dick.

(There were some high school memories that he and Hale had an unspoken mutual agreement to never talk about.)

As Tim's hands unbuckled and unzipped him, Jax scooted down a bit, lolled his head back on the top of the cushions and looked at the cottage cheese on the ceiling.

Tim didn't reach in and take him out right away, he rubbed his face over the thin cotton, sniffing, mouthing, basically cock-teasing, driving Jax fucking nuts, really. His dick had spurted a nice big wet patch on the front of his boxer briefs before Tim told him to lift up. He looked over at Dean as Tim shimmied his underwear and pants down to about mid-thigh.

Dean's eyes were like points of green fire. They burned with desire ... and with something else, too. Something calculating. There were layers to this that Jax didn't begin to understand, and he knew better to ask, because he was just passing through, a nomad.

He closed his eyes and gently carded his hands into Tim's long, slightly sweat lank hair, and sucked in a long hissing breath as Tim took him in hand and licked a long, hot stripe from root to tip.

People joked that a mouth's all the same in the dark. And they were so wrong. A guy's mouth was bigger than a woman's, and a guy's stubble chafed against the tender flesh of your inner thighs as he bobbed his head up and down, and he could take you deeper more easily than most women could, even with practice.

Jax tried to say something like, "Oh yeah, just like that," but all he could get his mouth to form was the "Ohhhhh ...." part.

His head flopped forward and he opened his eyes and _ohgod_ Tim was putting on an _obscene_ show. Slurping, and moaning every time he took a breath, and angling his head so that Jax's cock bulged from his cheeks and after a few seconds of it, Jax wasn't sure how much of it was for his benefit, or Dean's benefit, or because Tim was a natural showman, but fuck, it was hot, and then Tim's eyes flicked up, locked with his, and the look in them was so _utterly wanton_ that it sent Jax from about a 7 to a 27 in a heartbeat. His orgasm caught him almost completely off guard and he barely had time to shout Tim's name and pull him away.

He didn't quite make it either. His first shot clipped the edge of Tim's jaw and hung there, oozing down into a long drip, and Jax had never seen anything so dirty-hot in his life.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Tim slid his forefinger along his jaw, collecting Jax's come and then he held it out and ... the look in his cat's eyes, it didn't ask him, it didn't tell him, it _dared_ him.

And Jax had never backed down from a dare in his life. Locking his eyes with Tim's, taking Tim's hand in his, he guided the finger to his open mouth, closed his lips around it, and slowly pulled Tim's finger away as he sucked his own come off.

It was a test, and he could see from the gleam in Tim's eyes that he had passed with flying colors.

They paused like that, frozen in the moment, until Dean's low, shuddering, "Jesus fuck" broke the spell.

~oo(0)oo~

"You're not going to believe this, but Tim's auditioning for Caracara was my idea," Dean said around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

Jax nearly choked on his beer. He shot a "huh?" glance at Tim, who nodded a confirmation in midslice.

Dean smiled fondly at Tim across the coffee table. "It's like he never stopped being a teenager on some level -- hell, look at the way he's eating -- I can go as much as the next guy, but Tim here was wearing me out."

Tim flipped him the bird. "You make it sound like I was humping your leg or something, D."

Jax chuckled. "So what did you do back in high school, constantly beat off between classes?"

Tim just smirked. _Busted!_

Jax started to laugh but was brought up short when Tim said quietly, "I also slept around. Not to brag, but it was a lot. A lot, _a lot_." He paused for a moment, grinned ear to ear at some memory, then continued, "But I'm not kidding when I say that Coach Taylor's daughter is about the only girl at my high school that I didn't get up on."

Jax guffawed, "What, was she dog ugly?"

"Hell no! She was just like her mother, _smokin'_ hot." The look in Tim's eyes grew a little dreamy.

"Great legs," Dean added.

"What?!" Tim almost sounded indignant. "You've never met her. You're thinking of _Tyra_."

"They went on for miles," Dean shot back. "Something like that's hard not to notice. Hello, guy here."

Tim's mouth quirked in an "Okay, I'll give you that one" smile. But then: "Julie was like a little sister to me, D. It would've been gross sleeping with her." Pause. "Even though she did have a great rack."

"Tyra wasn't hurting in that department, either," Dean said, making a "curvy woman" figure in the air with his hands, and smiling happily at the memory.

"So, you're ..." Jax began.

Dean smiled and shook his head. "Not gay. _So_ not gay."

"But you're --"

Dean arched an eyebrow. "With Tim, yes."

Right. "So, what I'm not getting here is why _straight_ porn?"

"What D's not telling you is I'm only doing porn in the first place to help put Sam through school," Tim explained before continuing, "Look, if I'm with somebody, _really with somebody_, it's just them. And ... this feels the least like cheating. Also, I try to I keep Caracara out of this part of my life as much as I can."

Dean laughed. "Except when I pick up one of his movies."

Tim just snorted and shook his head. He wadded up his napkin and pitched it in the empty pizza box before flopping back on the couch.

Dean shrugged. "Hey, it's a turn on, watching you perform."

_Yeah, you can say that again._ Jax thought. "So, why am I here then?" he asked. "Because you obviously don't want to fuck around, in a manner of speaking, and you can't get more Caracara than bringing one of the owners home with you."

"Because, even though there's been a few times we've agreed and picked up a girl and shared her, I've had fantasies about a threeway with Tim and another guy." Dean's eyes bored into his. "And Tim said he's fine with that, so long as _he_ picked the guy."

There was a certain note of warning in Tim's voice even though he smiled as he replied, "I told you, I'm not sharing you with just anybody, D."

Jax swallowed hard. "So, let's all be clear here --" He did not want to get caught in the middle of a relationship. His life was complicated enough.

"It's a one time thing," Dean said.

Jax sighed in relief. "Good, because, as much as a certain part of me likes the idea, another part of me of me knows it's for the best if it's a one off." He picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Any more than that and it would feel like cheating on Tara." He smiled at the both of them. "You're not the only couple with an ... understanding." _'Cept mine usually involves keeping it out of the backyard._ "But I gotta ask. What if I had said hotel?"

Tim smiled knowingly at him. "I knew you weren't going to say hotel, and I just would've told D where to meet us."

Jax smiled a little tightly, "You seem awful certain I was going to say yes."

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Tim replied mildly.

Well, yes, he had a point there.

~oo(0)oo~

Jax didn't even get off the couch before the next round started. Dean picked up the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles and headed out of the room while Tim pulled off his boots, revealing a pair of somewhat grubby white socks with holes in them. He then stood and pulled off his shirt revealing his impressive set of pecs and washboard abs.

_When he's not eating or working, he must be working out,_ Jax noted. _I wonder when he finds time to fuck and sleep._

Tim cocked his head and said, "Ready for round two?"

The words tripped over themselves getting out of Jax's mouth.

Tim crouched at his feet. "How about we start with your shoes?"

Jax's shirt went next, and then his jeans and boxer briefs. As he stepped out of them, semi-hard, at the prospect of what was to come, he said to Tim, "Why aren't you naked yet?"

Tim just shrugged and stood up, dropped his pants and jockeys and then gently pushed Jax back down to the couch, straddling his lap. The feel of his dick nestling against Jax's own was all it took to get him fully hard again, and Tim's eyes locked with his as Tim made the tiniest of teasing micro-thrusts with his hips. "Are you okay with kissing?" Jax asked.

"Oh _hell_ yes," Tim said and swooped in, wetly claiming Jax's mouth. He tasted of pizza and beer and something uniquely himself, and fuck yes, he could kiss. Had that perfect knack of sucking your bottom lip the way that went straight to a guy's cock, knew how to give and take with the tongue, and when they accidentally clanked teeth, Jax could only laugh. Fuck, he hadn't had a kiss that thrilling, that full of mystery and wonder and _discovery_ since the day Tara walked back into his life.

"God," Jax murmured when they broke. "You make me feel like I'm 18 all over again." _And, shit, your eyes are so amber right now. Warm like honey in sunlight, and there I am, reflected in them as you look at me like I'm something incredibly precious._

The light bulb clicked on and Jax laughed in realization.

"What's so funny?" Tim asked.

Jax reached out and ran his finger over Tim's kiss reddened lips, Tim, of course, sucked it in and swirled his tongue along its length, causing Jax's breath to catch in his throat as he replied, "You make me feel like I'm the only girl in the room."

Tim shook his head as he laughed. "You're not a girl. Really, really not a girl." He slid his hands up Jax's ribcage, pausing and teasing Jax's nipples with his thumbs for a few moments, before sliding his palms the rest of the way up and over Jax's shoulders.

"I knew," Jax rasped, "that you had some special knack with the ladies -- it's why they're all so in love with you -- but I've never had it done to me before. _Damn_ you're good."

Tim smiled easy at him. "I'm not doing some sort of hokey trick. I'm not doing anything."

"I know," Jax murmured, skimming his hands up Tim's back, feeling those firm muscles flex and coil in response to his touch, "that's what makes it so potent."

"You're not so bad yourself, Jax Teller. Right now, you've got this look in your eyes ..." Tim angled his head one way and then the other as he thought about how he wanted to explain what he had to say. "When I was a kid, my best friend, Jason, and I went to a museum. And right now, you look like Jason did when he saw the T-Rex."

"And I feel like the world's luckiest kid on Christmas morning," Dean said from the door to the hallway. As he stepped closer, Jax noticed that he had a bottle of lube in one hand and a butt plug in the other. Not a particularly large one (Jax had seen some monsters used on the set at Caracara) but a butt plug nonetheless.

Startled, he flicked his eyes back to Tim's. "Don't worry, that's not for you," Tim whispered. He arched an eyebrow in thought and leaned in a moment later. "Unless you _want_ it to be."

"N-no," Jax stammered because ... no. Just no.

Tim closed his eyes for a few heartbeats and when he opened them again the look in them dared Jax to pass judgement.

"Different strokes for different folks," Jax replied.

Tim's answer consisted of him rolling his hips, making both their breaths catch, making Jax's cock surge and spurt another few drops of precome.

Dean climbed on to the couch next to them, opened the bottle of lube, squirted a large dollop into his hand, rubbed them together to warm it, and said, "How about you two continue with that kissing and feeling each other up thing, because _that_ was hot."

Jax closed his eyes as Tim kissed him, slid his hands up and down that strong, yet not muscle-bound, back, tangled them in Tim's hair, rocked back as Tim rocked into him, just let the goodness of it all roll over him.

He could tell the moment Dean slid it in -- didn't open his eyes, let them have it be their thing -- he just felt Tim raise up and heard him make a soft, choked-off sort of sound, and that was that. And when Jax opened his eyes, the fire in Tim's eyes had become hotter, more focused, like the flame on a cutting torch. They both gave soft, under the breath sounds as they renewed kissing, rocking against each other, and then Dean reached between them with a warm, slick hand and closed it around both of them.

"Oh, God!" Jax heard himself gasp, and then he closed his eyes again. Not because he wanted to give them a moment, not out of shame, not out of fear, but out of the knowledge that if he caught another glimpse of the open mouthed _Ohhhh_ of ecstasy on Tim's face as Dean pumped them (all the while giving a running monologue about how hot they both were right now, and how much he loved the fact that Tim was so fearless when it came to sex) Jax was going to shoot like a high school boy on his first hot date. And when he did shoot, it was a full-blown acid trip rush of colors behind his eyes and then a long slow fade to black during which he was only dimly aware of Tim sagging against him, panting in his ear before his heat and weight were gone and then tissues wiped and the velvety black warmth pulled him under.

He wasn't out for long. He came back to the sounds and then the sight of Tim blowing Dean on the easy chair. He stretched out on his side and watched them through slitted eyes, too wrung out at the moment to do anything else except enjoy the view.

Dean had a small pentagram tattoo on his chest that matched the one that Tim had on the nape of his neck and a brand on his left shoulder that looked like a hand print ... a few scars on his torso and across his hips, too, in stark contrast to the virtually pristine expanse of Tim's skin. They had reached the point where they were both so into it that neither of them noticed Jax.

It was obscene and beautiful and hot and a thousand other words that hadn't been invented yet, the way that Dean's hands knotted into and kept clenching in time around Tim's thick brown hair as his hips rocked in slow, easy thrusts. Dean tossed his head back and shuddered and gasped from time to time, but for the most part, he kept his gaze fixed on his lap where -- from what little bit Jax could see and hear -- Tim was putting on show to top the one he'd put on for Jax.

Tim's own hips rocked and twisted in a time of their own, the cheeks clenching and relaxing as he move, clearly savoring the feel of the plug shifting inside him.

Jax felt his pelvis grow warmer with the flood of blood to parts south, at the thought of that, felt things tingle, try to rise, but it was still too soon for round three.

Round three.

_Fuck_ he laughed to himself, who needed Viagra when there was Tim Riggins?

Something he did must have caught Dean's attention because the next time Jax's eyes flicked up from Tim's head in Dean's lap, he found that green stare fixed on him, bright, almost feral.

Soft or not, Jax's cock somehow managed to ooze a spurt of precome as Dean came about two seconds later and Tim swallowed it all down, openly savoring every last drop and letting Dean slide out of his mouth only after he had gone completely soft.

And the look that Tim flashed him after he climbed up into Dean's lap? 100% cat that got the cream.

Jax groaned inwardly.


	3. I know how to be lost in lust/not because you should, but because you must.

Round three began after about 20 minutes of watching Dean and Tim kiss and whisper in each other's ears with occasional glances over at where he lay sprawled on the couch. Finally, Tim climbed off Dean's lap, took his hand and headed for the hallway. "Party's this way," he said to Jax over his shoulder.

Jax paused in the doorway to the bedroom. Like most older houses, the bedroom was small when compared to a modern master bedroom, and in this case the space was dominated by a massive California King. Jax gravitated to the chair tucked in the corner next to the dresser.

Dean looked at him, clearly wondering why Jax hadn't climbed on the bed, but before he could speak, Jax leered at them and said, "You're not the only one who likes to watch, y'know."

They both laughed at that.

"Your loss," Dean said as he pulled out a small bottle of massage gel.

"Oh, trust me, I'll be there and rarin' to go when the time is right."

Tim turned and laid face down, diagonally across the bed, facing Jax, parked his chin on his crossed forearms and rumbled, "Let's give him an unobstructed view, then."

And while there wasn't anything particularly pornotastic about watching Dean give Tim a back rub, at the same time, there was. And by the same token, this wasn't being done entirely for his benefit, and yet, it was.

What made it work, what made it so incredibly hot, was watching the look in Tim's eyes become more and more catlike, dreamy and satisfied, and full of sultry promises. And also the fact that -- as Jax knew from experience -- it was simply fun to give your partner a massage. It was fun to have the simple pleasure of reaching out and spending long minutes stroking and petting and caressing their skin, delighting in that, yet all the while thinking about all the things you planned to do to them when the moment came. It was fun to hear the sounds they made, too -- the shuddering breaths, the happy little sighs, the grunts, the groans, and to know that while all of this was making them feel good, their mind was also moving on to all the ways you'd soon be making each other feel _incredible_.

(The pre-fuck massage. It was all about sex without being sex.)

Tim muttered something to Dean, too low for Jax to hear, and Dean (who had been straddling Tim's waist and had steadily grown to almost full hardness over the last 30 minutes) shimmied off of him. Tim arched, raising his ass up and with a twist of the wrist that brought a smile to Tim's face, Dean eased the plug out and leaned back, setting it on the nightstand, while Tim reared up and knelt, achingly hard and ready to go.

_Showtime!_

Jax clenched his hands and leaned forward in the chair, letting out an explosive breath. This was that final few moments before the starting gun fired, the drag lights strobed from red to green, the buzzer sounded and the gates opened. He licked his lips in ANNNNN .....TICI-PATION.

Dean's gel-slicked hands reached around Tim, making a big show of stroking up and down Tim's torso, tweaking his nipples -- making him gasp and shimmy -- sliding along the sharp blades of his hipbones, and all the while his lips rained the most delicate little kisses along Tim's shoulders and the edge of his neck. Then the hands disappeared and Tim's legs crept incrementally farther apart in response to something Dean was doing to him until one of Dean's hands shot back into view and _clamped_ on Tim's hip as, with a guttural cry, Dean reared up and forward and Tim's eyes screwed shut and he gasped, "Oh, fuck, D ... fuck yeah, that's it."

They froze like that for a split second, and then Dean gave a few short sharp thrusts, fully seating himself, as Tim's mouth slowly sagged open and his breath came in hitched cries.

And when Tim opened his eyes and fixed them on Jax again, they were no longer cat's eyes filled with sultry promises and a lazy self-satisfied mischief, they had instead become the eyes of a dragon: ancient, filled with fire, baleful power, and a level of knowledge almost beyond human comprehension.

Jax gasped, half-wondering if there wasn't something to those old folktales of demons and sex, because the look in Tim's eyes was so unlike anything Jax had ever seen before -- it bordered on the supernatural. It was like coming face to face a fucking primordial force of nature just like a tornado or an earthquake or even the tides coming in. It was the entirety of Sex, given a face and a voice, and in that moment Jax absolutely understood (A) why Tim didn't share this part of himself with just anybody and (B) why Dean might have issues with Tim playing an incubus.

(Hell, if Tara ever turned a look like that on him, he'd be wondering if it was still Tara in there.)

The light in those eyes flickered, growing amused. With a low, smoky chortle, Tim crooked his finger, beckoning, and Jax found himself powerless to resist the summons. He stood and walked the two steps from the chair to the bed on shaking legs. Tim pulled him close and kissed him -- and oh, thank God, it was still Tim --but more of what he'd already had wasn't what Jax wanted from Tim. "Uh-uh," he whispered against those lips, before he shrugged off Tim's arms and reached back, pulling the chair close, sinking down on the edge of the seat. "Your turn now" he said, looking up and reveling in the lightning bolt of surprise that flashed through those eyes. Tim's raspy little breath and the fresh precum that spurted from the tip of his dick just as Jax took it into his mouth were better than anything Jax could have hoped for.

About two seconds in Jax gave up on trying to move his head except for the bare minimum and let Dean fuck Tim into his mouth. He simply went with the flow and concentrated on working his tongue around the shaft and flicking it over the head, and hollowing his cheeks as he _sluuurrrped_. He put his hands to work pumping the base with one and cupping Tim's sac with the other. Jax had a guy-sized mouth, but no way could he deep throat that monster -- hell, most of the pros at Caracara probably couldn't. And yeah, while Jax's primary interest was in women, he was getting a remedial session in why it could be good for the guy sucking dick, too ... except for a few obvious differences, it was the same thing as going down on Tara, and Jax loved to go down on a woman.

Smell -- not the smell of a woman, but a good smell, too, a musky one that said "sex" to the crocodile brain.

Taste -- earthy and salty with a sharp tang where a woman was more smoky, different _but just as good_.

Feel -- the thousand little micropulses of it throbbing against your tongue and fingers, the infinitesimal swelling that accompanied a fresh surge of precome, the silky texture of the skin itself against tongue and fingers, tracing the mushroom shape of the head with your tongue, the almost blistering heat of it, the weight of if, the fullness of the sac in your hands, the bursting fullness and strain when you put a finger just behind the sac and felt the shape of the cock just on the other side before crooking it a few times, tickle-teasing .... The feel of the blood going straight to your own cock, the feel of it throbbing in time to your pounding heart.

Power -- this above all. Hearing the gasps, and the swears, and the moans, and the begging, and a thousand other little cries, having so much damn control over them, bringing a person to the brink, and knowing _that it's all because of you_.

"Stop!" Tim's hands clenched in his hair, pulling him away. "Don't want to -- not in your mouth," he choked out, voice ragged.

Dean sucked in a rasping breath. "Want Tim to be the middle of the sandwich." He clenched his teeth and panted as he slowly withdrew from Tim.

"Okay, tell me what to do," Jax said, rising, sliding the chair back into place.

Tim visibly collected himself and said, "Lie down on your side, facing me."

Okay, yes, this he could do.

Jax positioned himself and Tim scooted over, got a good grip on his ass, lined himself up against Jax and and began the bump and grind. Face to face wasn't the best angle, but as the little crackles of staticy goodness crackled up his spine in response, Jax had no doubt they'd get there. After a few seconds Dean came up from behind, Tim paused, hooked his leg up and around Jax's hip, bringing them even closer together, and clenched his teeth and hissed against Dean's entry.

It took them a few minutes, a lot of shoving on Dean's part, and a false start or two to find the groove. And after that, Jax just closed his eyes and kissed Tim back as they rocked against each other, and when the time was right -- a moment after Dean came with a loud, shuddering groan -- he wrapped a spit-slick hand around himself and Tim and brought them to the finish.

They collapsed in a sex sticky heap, utterly wrung out. Only through sheer strength of will did Jax roll away and make his legs move to the bathroom where he grabbed the first towel he saw and brought it back to the bed, turning out the lights on the way. Tim was sound asleep by the time he climbed back on the bed. Jax didn't have memories beyond wiping away the worst of the mess and handing the towel to Dean.

~oo(0)oo~

The smell of coffee and the sound of conversation woke Jax several hours later. God. Coffee. Black sunshine. What would life be like without coffee? He cracked an eye to see if he could gauge the time by the amount of light in the room -- it was late enough that the only stiffy he had was from the need to piss -- and discovered that Tim and Dean were still in bed with him. When did Dean set the coffee maker?

_Wait, who was that talking?!_

Reaching out and shaking Tim's shoulder, he croaked, "You gotta wake up, man. I think there's somebody else in the house."

"Huh? Wha?" Tim slurred, barely roused into a state of sludgy semi-consciousness.

Wow. Jax hadn't thought it possible for a person to be less of a morning person than him, but Tim had him beat by a country mile.

Dean came to with a series of muttered curses while Tim just groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the pillows.

"So, who made coffee?" Jax asked, hissing softly under his breath as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Shit, he'd slept too still and was stiff like a board. He needed to take a leak something fierce, too.

"That would be Sam," Dean grumbled as he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face before scrubbing them almost viciously through his hair, turning a case of bed-head into something even worse. "You and me, buddy, are going to have to do the walk of shame."

Jax stretched. "What?"

Dean climbed off the bed, smacking Tim on the ass, which only prompted a no-look flip of the bird. "Our clothes are out there. You need to get yours." Dean grinned conspiratorially at him, "Let's go give Sammy a show." When he sensed that Jax wasn't immediately following, he said, "Dude, you got nothing to be ashamed of." He leered. "I would know."

Jax glanced over at dead-to-the-world Tim. Indeed he would.

Oh, why the hell not? It wasn't like Sam couldn't figure out what three sets of male clothes scattered throughout the front room meant. And sometimes the best defense was a good offense. It was much harder to bust someone's chops if they turned the tables on you.

~oo(0)oo~

Sam Winchester wasn't what Jax expected. For starters, he was big, like Opie big, and his hair and eyes were darker than Dean's.

Sam's pretty blonde lady friend also wasn't what Jax (or Dean) expected. She gasped and dropped her coffee cup a moment after they sauntered into view. It shattered on the kitchen floor, sending coffee everywhere.

"Well, that didn't go like planned," Dean muttered after they'd gathered their clothes and sprinted back to the room, her laughter and Sam's grumbles chasing them all the way.

Jax pissed then gave his shirt and jeans a cursory sniff test before putting them on. Thank god they didn't reek like this room, and well, the ride home would take care of any lingering funk.

"Sorry about that," Dean grinned almost sheepishly as they re-entered the kitchen. "We weren't expecting to shock and awe anybody but Sammy." Ignoring the death glare directed at him by his brother, Dean held out his hand and continued, "Dean."

She smiled a little tightly and held out her hand, "Julie. Julie Taylor."

Swallowing his pride, Jax held out his hand to the both of them and introduced himself. Sam raised an eyebrow and as he passed him a cup of coffee. Jax pasted his most innocent smile on his face as he accepted it. _Yeah your brother and his boyfriend did some entertaining last night, so fucking what?_

"Okay, well, this is awkward," Julie said, breaking the silence. "I promise that Sam and I will never just get in my car and drive up again. We'll call first."

Dean grinned at that then said, "Well, depending on what time you called, I can't say as we would've picked up."

She laughed.

Jax didn't want to linger over his coffee, but he fucking needed _something_ this morning after last night's workout. It turned out that Julie was a journalism major. In addition to being very pretty with her thick blonde hair and big hazel eyes, she certainly had a brain and a mouth on her. She was more snarky than Tara, but the same strongheadedness was there. Sam was going to have his hands full with this one ... and not just because she was busty.

He excused himself, put his cup in the sink and got his ass out the door.

Julie's car turned out to be little Chevy Aveo. Jax snickered as he tried to picture Sam crammed into it like some sort of clown car. He glanced at the Buick. At least he'd ride back in style.

He swung his leg over his bike, got her started and headed down the road. The engine had arrived for Tim's truck, and while he didn't like working on a Saturday, he felt he owed it to Tim, seeing as he'd soon be without a car. If he, Sack, and Opie busted their asses, they could get it and the transmission back in early tonight and Jax could call Tim to come pick it up on Sunday.

He could lie to himself and say that his interest was purely business, after all, Caracara's top stud needed to keep working.

Or he could be honest and admit that while last night would probably never happen again, it was good to have friends outside SAMCRO, and there was just something about Tim and Dean that made Jax feel that they were the right kind of people to know.


End file.
